


But Know Not What We May Be

by jessalae



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You really are so young, Doctor," she sighs, running a finger down his chest. "There are so many things you don't even know you like yet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Know Not What We May Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink_bingo December 2010 mini-challenge; originally posted on my Dreamwidth on December 24, 2010.

The Doctor likes River Song just fine. Really he does. True, she seems to get herself into a lot of scrapes that she then uses him to get out of. And true, she keeps dropping ominous hints about things she then refuses to talk about. And she clearly has a criminal background of some rather serious sort. And every time she says something to him he has a deep-down feeling that every word is, if not a complete lie, a very convoluted version of the truth.

Actually, she's kind of infuriating, really. It's bad enough being a time-traveling genius who can't know what his own future holds, but to have someone waltzing in and out of your time stream making smug asides about things to come is just unnecessary.

He can't really track her down properly, not without knowing when she comes from, but the last time she was in the TARDIS he managed to get a fix on her vortex manipulator, which is a start, at least. He drops Amy and Rory off in Leadworth for Christmas, assuring them that he'll be back before they've even finished dinner. Amy shoots him a look that promises much worse than cricket bats and handcuffs if he's late, but he's already turning back to the TARDIS, eager to do some proper investigating on his own.

The TARDIS finds the vortex manipulator on the fourth moon of Caar some two thousand years in the future. Neither the date nor the time really mean anything to the Doctor, but he figures it's as good a starting point as any, and opens the throttle. The TARDIS rattles her way through the time stream, finally depositing him on the seventy-fifth floor of a building in the capital city.

He opens the door cautiously and tiptoes out, looking for any signs of life. The room -- which is apparently a bedroom -- seems to be empty, although the fluffy white blankets on the huge bed are disarrayed and there's a half-empty bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of melting ice.

The Doctor is starting to wonder what exactly he's walking into, but he shuts the TARDIS door and walks out into the middle of the room. The carpet is thick and deep purple, and his feet sink into it as he paces from one end to the other.

He takes in all the details: the gold leaf on the curtain rods, the ornate crest on the headboard featuring a three-headed cat, the make and model of the computer installed in the wall. One side of the room is covered by a purple-tinted window. Down below, the city sparkles, and official-looking banners reading things like "Glory to Caar!" and "Caar Provides for Caar's People!" wave in the breeze.

There's a soft noise off to his right that turns out to be the slide of the automatic bathroom door. River steps out in a cloud of steam, hair and body wrapped snugly in plush white towels. She sees the Doctor right away, and her eyes widen, but she doesn't recoil or step back.  
"You can't be here," she says, halfway between surprised and firm.

"Neither can you," the Doctor says. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the Grand Lyonesse Hotel, and that--" he points to the scene outside the window-- "is the Third Caaran Principality, a strictly isolationist regime. No other species allowed in the whole system, and certainly not in luxury hotels in the nicest part of the capital." He looks around the room, frowning incredulously. "What are you up to?"

"I could ask you the same thing," River says, crossing to the full length mirror and unwinding the towel from her hair. Her curls fall past her shoulders, damp and wild. "I thought Time Lords knew better than to snoop on their own time stream."

"Yes, well, you know me," the Doctor says. "Curiosity has always been one of my greatest weaknesses. Can't leave well enough alone."

"I do know you." Although River seems to be absorbed in examining her reflection, the way she says it sounds like a challenge. "What would you like to know?"

"When are you from?" he asks, thinking that would be a place for further snooping, if nothing else.  
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you that." She tosses her head and picks up a lipstick from the bureau, slicking it smoothly over her mouth.

"All right, when do I meet you?" he tries.

"Nope, sorry, can't do that one either," she says, touching up the corners of her lips with one scarlet fingernail.

"How do I know you?"

"Mm, nor that one." She sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning over to buckle on a pair of black leather stilettos. One corner of the Doctor's mind muses that really, walking in a heel that high must be extremely difficult, but the rest of him stays focused.

"What were you really in prison for?"

"Sorry, no."

"What did you mean, everything changes?"

"Spoilers," she says, sing-song, and looks directly at him, her face full of amusement and just a hint of pity.

"You see, you shouldn't have wasted your energy coming here," she says. "You can track me down at any compromising moment you want, I'm still not going to tell you anything."

"I will find out eventually," the Doctor says matter-of-factly.

"Yes. But not yet," River says.

The Doctor clenches and unclenches his fists. "River, this could be very important," he says. "I need to know what I'm facing so I can have a chance of stopping it. Lives may depend on it, whole species, whole planets."

"Yes, you do tend to do things in a big way," River says calmly.

"Don't you care?" the Doctor says, his tone verging on a shout. "Don't you care that you could prevent death, destruction, and who knows what else?"

"I care," River says, looking him straight in the eye. "The real question is, do you?"

The Doctor's mouth opens and closes wordlessly. "Of course-- of course I care," he finally splutters. "Why do you think I _came_ here?"

"Not because of whole species and whole planets," River says, crossing her legs. "Not because of lots of people. Not even because of just a few people. Because of one person." She leans forward, over-enunciating the last word: "You."

When he doesn't immediately respond, she elaborates. "I know you. You can handle being mistaken -- you can handle not knowing all the details, and running on instinct -- but only when it's about other people. Not when it's about you. And now here I come, reminding you every step of the way whether I mean to or not that there's so much you don't know about yourself. It must be driving you absolutely mad."

The Doctor shoves his hands into his pockets and stares fixedly out the window. "That's not true," he says.

"I think it is," River says, rising and walking over to him. "And I think you're here today not because you want to know what galaxy you need to save, but because you're curious about what sort of man you are -- what sort of man you'll be." She steps very close to him, and he kind of hates the knowing look in her eyes.

"You're not here for any big reasons, Doctor," she says. "You're here for the little ones. All the little pieces of you that you don't quite understand yet, and you think that I do." She laughs ruefully, walking a slow circle around him. "If only, Doctor."

"River..." he says, wary, trying to keep an eye on her without obviously twisting around.

"I almost feel bad," she says. "If I hadn't crossed your path so many times, or been so careless with my words, you wouldn't be here. There must be something I can do to assuage some of your curiosity."

She reaches his front again and looks him up and down. "You really are so young, Doctor," she sighs, running a finger down his chest. "There are so many things you don't even know you like yet."

"Name one," the Doctor says.

"Me," River says, and leans in.

Her kiss is like melted chocolate, silky and sweet, and despite the Doctor's best intentions he finds himself melting right along with her. He kisses back the best he can -- first time in this body, apart from that awful moment with Amy, he hasn't quite had enough practice -- and cups the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair.

"Uh-uh," River says, breaking the kiss and slapping his hands away. He rubs his wrist where her fingernails have left little indents, and frowns at her.

"Sorry, was that not what I was supposed to do? Because you did kiss me," he says.

"Hush," River says, putting a finger on his lips and steering him back towards the bed with no more contact than that.

"One thing you'll know, in the future," she says as his calves hit the bed and he topples back onto it, "Is that sometimes it's better to let me be in control."

"What do you--" is all he manages before she slaps him, actually slaps him, the force stinging across his cheek and the sound reverberating through the room. She plants her hands on either side of him on the bed and leans close, staring deep into his eyes.

"No talking," River says, and something in the back of the Doctor's mind shuts his mouth for him. "Think about it, Doctor," she says, her voice low. "Think about how you feel right now. About what it felt like, when I pushed you, when I slapped you."

The Doctor does, and is surprised to find that, actually, it felt kind of good. There's a little thrill at the base of his spine, now, just remembering it, and his hearts are starting to pound alarmingly hard.

This wasn't really the kind of information he came here looking for, but it's intriguing nonetheless.  
River is still looking at him intently, waiting for a response of some kind, so he nods tentatively at her. She smiles and steps away from him.

"Turn over," she says in a sharp voice. "Hands and knees."

The Doctor kneels on the bed, feeling rather foolish until River's hand comes swinging down to land with a smack on his bum. He jumps and gasps, and then feels foolish for jumping and gasping until she gives him another stroke, then another. She spanks him slowly but firmly, nearly cupping his arse with each stroke. The Doctor finds that he’s gasping at an increased pace and that his trousers are becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

River solves that problem the next moment, sliding his braces off his shoulders and reaching around his front to undo his zip. He sucks in a harsh breath when her fingers brush his erection, letting it out quietly with some difficulty when they don't do anything more than brush.

Once his trousers are off, River's hands are back on his arse, caressing and massaging the reddened skin. The Doctor shivers when one finger slips between his cheeks, just teasing. River does it again, not teasing this time, and the Doctor shivers harder. It's the best kind of shiver, though, the kind that starts in the middle of his back and radiates straight to his cock, so he doesn't say a word.

"Oh, Doctor," River sighs behind him. Abruptly, her hands are gone, and she's walking around to the side of the bed. The Doctor looks at her in confusion.

"Now do you believe me?" River asks. "It's all right, you can talk."

"Yes," the Doctor gasps. "Yes, I believe you, but is all this going to go somewhere?"

River smiles. "So impatient, at this stage. No, don't worry." She bends down in one smooth motion and pulls a black box with a tiny padlock from underneath the bed. "I plan on going all the way."

She sheds her towel, and the Doctor just stares for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open. Her golden skin and full breasts are enough of a distraction that he doesn't notice right away that she's opened the box, or what she's taking out of it.

He comes back to reality when she steps into the harness, holding the sleek red dildo casually out of the way as she pulls the straps snug.

"River!" he says, sitting up abruptly.

"Where exactly did you think this was going?" River says, smiling calmly.

The Doctor's mouth moves wordlessly for a moment. "Not-- not there," he manages finally.

River takes a bottle of lubricant from the box and pours some into her hand, rubbing her fingers together to warm it. "Hasn't it turned out that you like everything else I've done so far?"

"Yes," the Doctor says tentatively.

"And if someone had told you ten minutes ago that you would enjoy being ordered around, or slapped, or spanked, would you have believed them?"

The Doctor can see where this is going, and grudgingly appreciates the logic of it. "No."

River looks levelly at the Doctor, the lubricant bottle poised over the dildo; a single drop sneaks its way out of the nozzle, hanging as if with bated breath. "If you don't want me to fuck you, I won't," River says, her voice low and sultry. "I'll put my things away, and you can get back in your TARDIS and go back to whatever you were doing."

"Or," she continues. "You can learn something new about yourself. You can realize that it isn't always bad not to be in control. And you can let me make you feel _very_ good." Her smile sends one of those wonderful shivers through the Doctor's body, and he decides to see where her strange logic will lead.

"All right," he says. "Just... be careful."

“Oh, I always am. Or will be,” River says, directing him down onto the bed again with an emphatically pointing finger.

He falls forward onto his hands and knees, and River disappears behind him. She slips a finger into the crack of his arse again, mimicking her earlier touch, but this time when she reaches his arsehole she pressed firmly in. For the first moment it’s cold and strange but not altogether unpleasant, and when River squeezes his arse cheek with her free hand and crooks her finger just so it becomes not unpleasant at all. The Doctor rocks back, searching for more of that spark of pleasure, and is punished (or rewarded) with a hard smack across his arse.

"You stay still," River orders, her voice harsh. "I'll tell you when you can move."

The Doctor freezes as much as he can without tensing up. River's finger continues its slow motion in and out, joined soon after by a second finger. The Doctor's hips almost jerk when both fingers slide over his prostate, but he screws his eyes shut and stops them. River makes a small, impressed sound and adds a third finger, spreading his cheeks with her free hand.

"Look at you," she murmurs under her breath. "All spread open and gorgeous for the first time."

"I think I've been gorgeous before," the Doctor says, earning a slap on the arse and the retraction of all three fingers.

"In case you were wondering, arrogance is not going to be an asset in this situation," River says coolly.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor says, trying his best to hold still. "Won't happen again, I promise."

"Oh, yes it will," River says, amused. "Get your chest down on the bed and your bum in the air, there's a good boy."

The Doctor obeys, feeling very vulnerable, but River's hand is there on his hip to steady him. He lets out a long breath as quietly as possible, but can't contain a shudder when he feels the blunt end of the dildo at his entrance, slick and cool with lubricant.

"Relax," River says gently, and smoothes a hand over the small of his back. When she feels his muscles unclench, she shifts her grip and eases into him.

The Doctor lets out a strangled groan, snapping his mouth shut as soon as he realizes he's done it, but River doesn't push all the way in just yet. After a couple of inches she pulls out until the head of the dildo is barely teasing his entrance again.

"All right so far?" she asks. "You can talk."

"Yes," the Doctor says, sounding strangled.

"Anything else you want?" she asks nonchalantly.

"More," the Doctor gasps. "Please."

River complies, fucking into him again, just a few inches deep, pulling out before going a bit deeper, then deeper still, until she's fucking slowly all the way in and out of him. The sturdy straps of the harness brush the backs of his thighs, and her fingernails press deep crescents into the skin of his arse.

"Is this what you want, Doctor?" she asks, keeping her breathing carefully level.

“Apparently so,” the Doctor says, moaning when she slams into him more harshly.

“And how about now?” she asks, picking up the pace and force of her thrusts until the Doctor is panting open-mouthed into the sheets, his hips shifting to meet each stroke.

“I don’t know,” he gasps, just barely coherent. “You tell me.”

River smirks, the motion of her hips never slowing. “Still mouthing off?” she says. “Let’s see if we can’t fuck the cheekiness out of you.” She touches a switch on the side of the harness. The dildo begins to vibrate, the pulsations increasing in speed. The Doctor grabs fistfuls of sheets and holds on for dear life, every nerve in his body singing with pleasure. He desperately wants to touch himself, but he has a suspicion that if he did River would stop, and that would just be unbearable. A few more strokes, though, with River pushing directly over his prostate, and his orgasm rushes over him anyway. He shouts out a moan, his whole body jerking, come streaking the blankets below him.

River holds his hips until he stops shaking, then turns off the vibration and eases the dildo out of him. The Doctor falls sideways on the bed, panting. He barely notices as River wipes the dildo clean, puts it back in its box, and picks a sleek black dress up off the floor.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more information,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral.

“I think I may have gotten enough for one trip,” the Doctor mutters.

“What was that?” River asks. When the Doctor doesn’t respond, she zips up her dress and picks up her vortex manipulator.

“You’ll want to clear out as soon as you can,” she says, buckling the strap around her wrist. “The High Prince of Caar should be back from his cabinet meeting at any moment, and he’s not going to be happy to find me gone — or you here.”

The Doctor sits up. “What were you doing with the High Prince of Caar?”

River picks up the black box. “Can’t tell you.”

“River, I—” the Doctor stops, not quite sure how to phrase this. “When will I see you again?”

“Can’t tell you that either, sorry,” River says.

“But you know?” the Doctor says, his voice hopeful.

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me, Doctor?” River says.

The Doctor looks fixedly up at the ceiling, then back down to meet her eyes. “When are we going to do _this_ again?” he asks.

River raises one eyebrow and presses a button on the vortex manipulator. As she blinks out into the time stream, the Doctor can just hear her voice, a sultry sing-song:

“Spoilers!”


End file.
